


Why didn't you tell me?

by benedictedcumberbabe



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:16:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benedictedcumberbabe/pseuds/benedictedcumberbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old face suddenly returns from the past & John realizes what he means to their life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why didn't you tell me?

Sherlock had been dead for three years now. John had visited his grave at least once a week; keeping things   
neat and tidy, telling his lost friend what he had done during the day, talking to him as if he was stood beside   
him rather than lying six-feet under. 

But Sherlock wasn't really dead. And he had watched John each time he had visited. He hadn't been standing by   
his side when John had spoken, but he had been standing close enough to hear each word. It was obvious that   
John was just as lonely as before, before they had found each other. Although Sherlock hated to admit it and   
although he had done so well keeping up his apparent death - it was all just getting too much for him. It was   
mostly John. He hated seeing him... upset. It just wasn't right. But Sherlock couldn't bear thinking of John's   
reaction to him showing up on the doorstep. 

John was sat silently in 221B staring at the book case, he noticed that one of Sherlock's notebooks was sticking   
out... he stared at it for ages! Then finally realized he needed to get out of the flat! Move on! Sherlock was dead   
and there was nothing that was going to change that! and he wasn't helping himself by staying in the flat and   
going to Sherlock's grave every 2 weeks or so... So that afternoon after clearing all Sherlock's things into boxes   
he made the dreadful last trip to his best friends grave, he just stood there, and for the first time he didn't know   
what to say... He just stood looking at the grave stone, "SHERLOCK HOLMES" was all that was on there. The   
black marble still shined as John had cleaned it every month. He fidgeted on the spot trying to think of   
something to say, the flowers he placed there the week before had weltered but there was no point in buying   
more as he was never going to return, not that he didn't want to he just needed to move on... 

"Sherlock… I… I was sat in the flat again today wondering what I was going to do with my life..." he started to   
choke up, he was struggling for words "And... and I noticed one of your notebooks was sticking out of the   
shelf... I...I looked through it and realized that you.... that you weren't coming back!” he wiped his eyes and   
took a deep breath "I.. I can't go on like this any longer Sherlock I’m sorry... I loved you so much and you made   
me want to carry on living... everyday I looked forward to whatever case we'd go on" he stepped forward and   
stroked the top of the grave stone "I have to move on with my life Sher... Sherlock” he tried to hold back tears   
his voice went all wobbly again "I will always love you Sherlock and I’ll miss you dearly" a tear fell onto the   
grave stone and john closed his eyes, turned out on one foot and started to walk away, not looking back. Not   
wanting to know what he was walking away from... wanting to stay with Sherlock until time stopped but he   
knew he had to keep walking* 

Sherlock witnessed the entire thing; John's confessions, his sobs, his reluctance to actually leave and the   
hesitation in his voice. Whether he was fazed by the idea that John was moving on or not, Sherlock understood   
and he had wanted John to move on. It would be for the best. But he himself just couldn't move on. He didn't   
even want to think about starting a new life and forgetting about his only friend. It wouldn't happen... even if   
that meant exposing John to his own shocking confession. Sherlock could only hope that John wouldn't refuse to   
see him again... after everything they'd been through. 

He followed John back to the flat, careful not to expose himself just yet. Only when he was sure that John would   
be settled back in his chair, probably with a cup of tea, perhaps even upset... He tapped on the door. 

John could not believe what he had done back at the graveyard.... He just wanted to see Sherlock again, the   
guy he loved so much, he was now sat staring again into thin air. He was having his daily cup of tea, when he   
heard a knock at the door. It couldn't have been Mrs. Hudson she was having her afternoon nap, so John went   
downstairs, wiped himself down of Sherlock’s fluff that had come from the scarf he always cuddled, it somehow   
still smelt like Sherlock, John dabbed his eyes, opened the front door slowly to reveal a silhouette of a tallish   
man, he somewhat recognized it, John studied hard the figure in front of him, tall well-built man... Delicately   
worn shoes that made this man’s feet point a slight movement outwards, a long coat shifted in the wind, curly   
hair... He raised one hand to his face. Shocked he couldn't make out what was happening he started to close the   
door, he was hallucinating surely? This had never happened before and because he knew now he wasn't going   
to visit Sherlock; his brain must still want to remember. He was still holding onto the door handle gradually   
closing it to return upstairs and try and work out what had just happened... 

 

Sherlock had expected a similar reaction. John was bound to believe he was crazy, imagining things. Who   
wouldn't believe that when they're friend who had been dead for three years knocked on the door? But John's   
reaction sparked something in Sherlock. It made him feel guiltier than ever. But perhaps that was because he   
was right in front of him now. He could see John more closely - he could see how worn out he looked; he could   
see every detail of loneliness and the desperation of having someone back in his life. 

Before John could close the door, Sherlock reached out a hand, placing it on the door so that it could not be   
shut. "John" he began in calm a voice as he could, "can I come inside?" He had no idea what to say. For once in   
his life, he just didn't know. 

John slammed the door shut “no! NO it's not real! Stop this! Stop it!" he slid down the hallway wall and started   
to sob with his head in his knees, holding the back of his head with his hands “Sherlock...” 

Even though he didn't have John's permission, Sherlock let himself inside. He watched John for a moment;   
unsure of his next move. Of course, he'd be upset and angry, that was normal. But he needed his friend to be   
calm while he explained himself. 

With a sigh, Sherlock got down to the floor himself, sitting beside John and still managing to be taller than his   
friend. "John... It is me. It is real. All of this." 

John's head was still in his knees, he felt for Sherlock’s scarf, then he realized that it was real, he could feel the   
fabric under his fingers, but then all of a sudden he scrambled to his feet looking down on Sherlock "but... but   
y..you're... dead... Sherlock???... it... how....? 

Sherlock frowned and looked up at John. "I am so..." he paused and shook his head.”I am so sorry, John." He   
glanced down to his feet, recalling that to be the first ever apology he had truly meant. "I had to do this, and I   
wish there had been some other way." 

John stormed up to the main room and sat in Sherlock's chair 

Sherlock got to his feet and sighed, leaning against the wall and collecting his thoughts. Everything would be   
okay once John got over the shock... Well, he hoped so. He raced up the stairs himself and followed John,   
finding him sitting in his old chair. The chair he hadn't sat in for years. "John..." 

John was looking at the notebook he told Sherlock’s grave about, he chuckled to himself then looked up at   
Sherlock, shows him the notebook “funny isn't it!” 

Sherlock didn't answer, but his eyes flickered over the notebook and he recalled the words John had mentioned   
by his grave earlier. He took a step closer to John and took the notebook from his hands. "I know this is very   
hard for you. But I'm here, it's me. I know you'll need time to get over this before I explain everything, but   
everything is okay." Sherlock put the notebook down on the coffee table before placing a hand on John's   
shoulder, the first touch in three years. 

John shuddered and looked the other way but at the same time placing his own hand on top of Sherlock’s   
“Sherlock?... he turned to face him “there…There’s something I need to tell you” 

"Oh?" Sherlock was startled, but relieved that John was going to say something. "You can tell me anything,   
John." 

He looked at Sherlock with a confused look. “Come here Sherlock” he gestured for Sherlock to lean towards him 

Sherlock did as he was told and leaned in closer to John, not saying a single word. 

 

  
John then placed both hands on Sherlock's face gazing into his deep eyes, then launched his feet right into   
Sherlock’s stomach sending the man flying onto the floor, he leaped out of his chair “THAT Sherlock is just an   
INCH of how I feel! Being kicked in the gut is NOTHING! Try having your heart ripped out in front of you then   
stabbed OVER and OVER again!” he reached over for the notebook and launched it at the mess of which was   
Sherlock on the floor and he stormed into the kitchen punching each cupboard violently then slopping down the   
fridge door till he was a heap on the floor sobbing into his hands 

Sherlock had not been expecting the sudden burst of violence and anger from John. He lay, clutching his   
stomach, on the floor. He said nothing, though he groaned at the terrible sensation shooting through his body.   
Perhaps he deserved that. He heard the sound of John's fists hitting hard surfaces in the kitchen. Frowning, and   
still in agony, he attempted to stand up, holding onto the chair to help him. He staggered into the kitchen, his   
arms now by his side so as not to give away how much pain he was really in. He found John curled up on the   
floor, crying. The feeling of guilt was horrible; he had never experienced this feeling before. "John," he said his   
voice a bit shaky, "I'm sorry. I really am. I did this for us; I did this to save you." He wandered slowly over to   
John, crouching down as best as he could, biting his lower lip to stop any noises leaving his mouth from the pain   
he was in. Sherlock rested a hand on each of John's shoulders. "Forgive me. Please." 

John unraveled himself out of the ball and looked up at Sherlock, he could see that he had Sherlock, he quickly   
embraced him into a hug, they both fell into a heap on the floor, John rested his head on Sherlock’s head and   
sniffed his hair, oh how he'd missed that smell “I'm sorry Sherlock. That was uncalled for... I didn't mean to hurt   
you” he got up off the floor and helped Sherlock to his feet “here sit here let me check you over” he helped   
Sherlock take his coat off and then sat him down “hold my arms” he started feeling around Sherlock's ribcage   
pressing in a lot of places with different pressures “let me know if anything hurts” 

Sherlock was glad when John embraced him. This didn't necessarily mean that he had been forgiven, but at   
least it suggested that John had come to terms with him returning. And that would do for now. He missed John's   
touch and his warmth. The only thing he had truly longed for, those years he had missed out. He did as he was   
told again. John had been the only ever doctor he could trust. He'd never go to anyone else. Sherlock winced   
every now and again as John pressed around his chest. "There," Sherlock mumbled as John applied pressure to   
a certain area on his ribcage. 

John placed his hands again where Sherlock had said it had hurt “I’m sorry Sherlock I seemed to have cracked a   
few of your ribs” he shook his head and placed it in his hands “Stupid, Stupid!” He knelt down in front of   
Sherlock and gently placed his cold hands under his shirt “I'm going to have to wrap your ribcage up” 

Sherlock shivered beneath John's cool touch. His own skin was very warm. "That's fine. Do what you think it’s   
necessary." His words came out as a distant mumble, he wasn't concentrating, possibly because of John's hands   
on his chest, was quite the distraction. 

John got up and fetched some bandages and other things he was going to need “Sherlock you're going to have   
to take your shirt off…” he hesitated “you do understand why...? If you wanted I could take you to A&E… if you   
don't want me to do it..?” 

"No," Sherlock shook his head. "I don't want to go anywhere else. I don't mind you taking care of it." He began   
to unbutton his shirt, eyeing John but not really caring that he was in pain, even though John had caused it. 

John returned with the necessary things; saw Sherlock struggling, so helped him out “Sherlock...? you don't   
want me here do you ... I’ll get someone else I can't…I can't see you in pain knowing I’ve done it I’m sorry” 

"John, I don't trust anybody else. I need you, only you." Sherlock glanced at the things John had brought along   
with him to sort him out. "Besides, I don't blame you for reacting that way, not at all." 

“Okay... Okay” he took a deep sigh and took Sherlock’s shirt from him and started to tightly fasten the bandages   
and thick tape round Sherlock’s ribcage “Sherlock please tell me if it's too tight or if I’m hurting you okay? Place   
your arms on my shoulders so I can get the best angle” he gently placed the white bandage on first then in   
places he taped it up John was the perfect doctor. He knew how much pressure to apply and how to work around things without   
causing much pain. Sherlock didn't call out once, didn't even wince. "Thank you," he said, once he was   
bandaged up. 

John passed Sherlock his shirt back “Do you want me to help you?” 

"I can manage." Sherlock took the shirt, but didn't put it back on just yet. "John, I really have missed you." 

John was on the floor tidying the bandages up, then slowly looked up at Sherlock “what was that Sherlock?... 

Sherlock wasn't usually one for admitting his feelings; even to himself. He glanced away, unable to keep direct   
eye contact with John. "I have missed you," he mumbled. 

“Sherlock look at me” he placed his hands on Sherlock’s face making him look at him. “Why did you have to go?   
And you really missed me...? If it means anything I missed you loads too” he gently smiled at Sherlock 

Sherlock felt his face burn up slightly at John's touch. "I left because of /him/. I had to protect you, and the   
others. I just..." he trailed off for a moment. "I just didn't want you to get hurt." He was glad to hear that John   
had missed him, but after seeing him every week at his grave, he could already tell. 

John sighed “oh /him/ Sherlock you do care! And there's me thinking you wanted to be alone! I can still” he   
started to well up “never mind...” he carried on clearing up then returned to the kitchen trying not to let Sherlock   
see him* 

Sherlock frowned, noticing John's eyes were glistening. "What were you going to say?" He questioned, walking   
closer to John. 

He tried to ignore Sherlock putting things in the cupboard still 

"John." Sherlock took John's arm and pulled, turning him around to face him. 

He tried to divert his eyes “Nothing Sherlock, it doesn't matter” he went into the main room and tried to find   
something to do 

Sherlock found himself following John. Obviously he didn't want to speak about it all, but Sherlock wouldn't let   
this rest. 

"I always checked on you, when I was away. I wanted to make sure you were okay, even if you were lonely."   
He sighed. "More than anything, I wanted to come back to you. I came back today because I know you were   
going to move on, or try to... and I didn't want that." 

John looked up at Sherlock with a confused look “checked up on me? wait you just said..” he tried to remember   
what Sherlock had just said “how did you know where I was?” he placed both hands over his mouth “You.. You   
were there... when I went to your grave? How many times did you go? That means.. Oh noo... Sherlock ... you   
didn't hear me when I said... oh god!” He started to pace around scuffling his hair “no no no no .. no! 

Sherlock said nothing; only followed John with his eyes. He had heard everything. Every single thing John had   
said or confessed, or even asked. Some of the things had startled him, and he had expected others. After   
watching John pace the floor for a while, he cut in. "I heard things, yes." He reached out and took John's arm   
again, this time much more gently. "There was one thing in particular that," he paused and glanced away,   
though he was still holding onto John, "that really stood out to me." 

John turned to face Sherlock, disgusted in himself for letting out what he really felt “Look Sherlock it doesn't   
matter what I said okay…none of it... I was just being silly! Please...” he placed his own hand over where   
Sherlock was holding his arm* 

"It matters to me." Sherlock didn't move his hand, not even slightly. This time, he was looking directly into   
John's eyes.   
John tried to look away but knew he needed to get it all out, he stared at Sherlock placing his other hand on   
Sherlock’s cheek* “Look… Ohh i can't really! if you’ve already heard it you already know... but all that doesn't   
matter now honest” he pulls away from Sherlock and goes to sit in Sherlock’s old chair, feeling Sherlock’s scarf   
that's hanging on the arm* 

"But why doesn't it matter now, John?" Sherlock asked, still standing where John had left him. For a moment, he   
had been convinced that John would confess to certain things, that he would tell him in person. 

“Because it doesn’t! If you hadn't had "died" I never would have felt how much I missed you and how much I   
loved you” he quickly placed both hands over his mouth releasing what he'd said “oh Sherlock!” 

Sherlock remained silent, but walked over to John and crouched down before his chair. "Being away from you   
has brought out many feelings I didn't even think I was capable of having," he said calmly. 

“What...? What are you talking about Sherlock?” he stared Sherlock right in the face, placing a hand on his   
cheek 

Sherlock smiled when he felt John's hand on the side of his face. It was somewhat a comfort for him in this   
unfamiliar situation. "I've never felt so much for a person as I do for you." He blinked, surprising himself. 

John looked shocked “Who are you and what have you done with my Sherlock?” he chuckled to himself 

Sherlock gave John a slight grin, feeling rather embarrassed. "I've been asking myself that same question." 

“So let me get this straight what exactly is going on here?” 

"I... I don't know." Sherlock was completely new to feelings, especially this kind. He didn't know what they   
meant. 

“What's wrong Sherlock...? Come on get up” he takes his hands, they stand in the middle of the room, john   
holds Sherlock’s arm whilst moving his hair with the other hand* 

Sherlock had no idea what to say as they stood there together. After hearing what John had to say at his grave,   
it seemed to leave all kinds of possibilities open to him, and made him think about his own feelings for his   
friend. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just not used to... all of this. This... sort of thing." He shook his head as it all   
came out wrong. 

“Here I'll help you. What is it you're not used to?” he stroked Sherlock's face then with the same hand rubbed   
Sherlock's arm for comfort “You're okay... Sherlock I've had experience with /guys/ before.... but what are you   
so confused about? You have to understand how I feel if you've heard everything I had said to your grave” he   
shudders “ wow that's weird thinking about it now ...” 

Sherlock smiled softly. "It was nice though, hearing everything you had to say." He paused and glanced down at   
John. "I didn't feel so alone when I saw you standing there." It was true. Seeing John on those occasions had   
been the only thing keeping him strong. "What I meant was, I'm not used to feeling how I feel about you." 

“And how's that Sherlock?” he took one of Sherlock’s hands and placed it on his own shoulder, then placed his   
own around Sherlock’s back, taking him slowly for a gentle hug, he rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and   
swayed a little “you okay ?” 

Sherlock tried to relax in John's presence, and somehow managed to quite quickly. "That thing you said, by my   
grave," he began, looking directly at John. "Well, I... I feel the same." He ended his words with a nod of his   
head. 

John was looking right at Sherlock, he held his face so delicately “which is...?” he smiled knowing what he meant   
but wanted Sherlock to say it out loud so John was on the same page. 

It took a lot for Sherlock to say it. He stood in silence for a moment or two, before squeezing John's shoulder   
softly. "I love you." Even though john sort of knew where Sherlock was going with his last sentence, it still shocked him to hear   
those words he placed his hand over where Sherlock was now squeezing his arm, he stared right at him “wow..!   
Well I'm a little lost for words now Sherlock...” he laughed a little “do you want to sit down? How are your   
ribs..?” he started to feel around at the padding fussing over Sherlock not knowing what to do or say* 

Sherlock was partly glad that John had changed the subject by mentioning his ribs instead. But he still wanted to   
sort this out. He took John's hand and led him over to the couch, sitting down and pulling John down beside   
him. "I know it's very strange for you to hear. I can barely believe it myself." Sherlock offered a gentle smile. 

“No I don't think it's strange just...” he blinked shaking his head still trying to get his head round what Sherlock   
had just said “I don't know why I never told you before? I think I only realized how much I loved you by how   
much I missed you... You made my whole life complete Sherlock...” he sat back staring at Sherlock “So…?   
Where do you suggest we go from here? 

Sherlock felt his face burn up at John's words. It meant a lot to hear them. Kind words were something he   
wasn't used to. He considered John's question of what would happen next. Rather than replying, he responded   
by leaning in slowly. Slowly so that it wouldn't be a shock for John. He kept his eyes open to look for a sign that   
John would be willing to kiss him back. 

Johne placed his hands on Sherlock’s chest looking at him “Sherlock... Don't.. I don't want you to do anything   
you don't want… I'm not rushing... okay just so we're clear” he still holds Sherlock at a distance and slides out   
from underneath him “You have to understand Sherlock that this morning it was near enough the 3 year   
anniversary of your death.. Now I find not only are you alive but you love me... he ran a hand through his hair   
and sat back down in Sherlock’s chair gripping the scarf still on the arm of the chair 

Sherlock had half expected this response from John, though he was still slightly disappointed. "Yes, I   
understand," he said simply, sinking back into the chair and eyeing John. In the next few minutes of silence that   
unfolded, Sherlock was able to have a proper, closer look at John. He broke the silence. "You haven't changed   
much." 

John turned round to face Sherlock, he saw that he was trying to break the ice a little, he got up and went over   
to him “ I should hope not, as much as I have been stressed and what not I tried to keep in shape. You haven't   
changed much either.” he rubbed the back of his hand against Sherlock’s cheek. “Your hair's still as wild as I   
remember it,” he paused a little then sat back on the sofa studying the man that was back in his life after so   
much time of thinking he was dead “Sherlock ?.. 

Sherlock leaned in to John's hand, making the most of the simple and sweet gesture. He really had missed being   
in his company. John was one of the only people Sherlock genuinely liked, could genuinely /stand/. 

He glanced at John when he heard his name. "Yes?" 

“Do you trust me?” he noticed Sherlock had leaned into john's touch.. What did Sherlock want? Lust... Passion...   
To be held? 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, finding the question rather curious. He hesitated, before replying. "Yes. I do." He   
was still looking at John. "Why do you ask?" 

“You sure you trust me…? Although I know I'm not going to hurt you in any way I just want to make sure you're   
okay with this…” he leaned closer to Sherlock, placing his hand on Sherlock’s knee edging closer and closer to   
him, he placed a hand behind Sherlock’s neck* 

Sherlock tried to keep calm, even when John was moving in closer. He nodded. "Yes, I'm sure," his words came   
out as a quiet mumble. 

John stopped, leaned back away from Sherlock “You're not ready are you? Tell me Sherlock if you don't want to   
you don't have to honest I don't mind... I want you to feel comfortable… There’s no rush okay” he still had his   
hand on Sherlock’s knee but was now twirling Sherlock’s hair in his other hand   
Sherlock shook his head. He knew he was ready. It had been a long wait. "I feel comfortable. I know I'm ready."   
He offered a smile and placed a hand over John's which rested on his knee. 

John looked down at Sherlock’s hand. his last move had been so warningly gentle that john just jumped at   
Sherlock, falling on top of him as they both fell back onto the sofa, he made himself comfy, almost saddling   
Sherlock, with both his hands lost in Sherlock’s oh so wonderful hair 

John's move startled Sherlock, though pleased him nonetheless. He wrapped his arms around John's waist,   
keeping him safely in place and pulling him rather close to his own body. 

John let out a little moan and then broke away for a breath leaving poor Sherlock a little in a mess there on the   
sofa, collar scuffed up, hair an even bigger mess than normal, he was also gasping for air “Do you still trust   
me?" 

Sherlock tried to catch his breath, watching John and still holding onto him. "Well, I don't know, because I   
certainly wasn't expecting you to jump on me like that." He smirked and attempted to fix his hair with one hand,   
though it wasn't really worth the bother. He nodded though, to let John know that he'd trust him no matter   
what. 

John was rapidly getting aroused and started tugging at Sherlock’s shirt. Trying desperately to undo each   
button, whilst deeply and passionately kissing Sherlock every minute or so, every time leaving Sherlock wanting   
more 

Sherlock allowed John to unbutton his shirt, showing no kind of resistance. Each time John leaned forward to   
kiss him, he reveled in the warmth and taste of John's lips on his own. He had never been so intimate with   
anybody before. He had never experienced such a sensation in his body. It was clear that he wanted John   
desperately. 

John let out a little moan as he managed to get Sherlock’s shirt undone ha had to pause for a minute “oh   
Sherlock OH wow, just look at you! I never thought I’d ever get to see what was hiding underneath your elegant   
suits, he began sucking Sherlock’s chest making marks everywhere, every now and again he would give a little   
nip then a laugh 

Sherlock leaned further back into the sofa, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. John's bites were very   
gentle, though sure to mark his skin. He ran a hand through John's soft hair as he continued to lay kisses on his   
chest. "...And when do I get to see you?" He asked breathlessly, finally remembering to respond to what John   
had said earlier. 

John shot a look at Sherlock, he got up off the sofa straightening himself out, he went all quiet, he really wasn't   
bothered about getting attention in the same way that he liked to give it 

Sherlock glanced up at John, looking slightly confused. "Is everything okay?" He sat up a bit, his chest still   
exposed and marked by John. 

“It’s just... I'd rather give than take you see, I never feel comfortable. Sorry Sherlock he sighs rather deeply 

"Ah," Sherlock nodded and sat up, reaching out to hold John's waist again. "I understand. Though, you have   
every right to feel comfortable around me." He offered John a smile and stood up, only to lay John down on the   
couch. Sherlock positioned himself above John, also lying down, his legs falling between John’s. He gazed down   
at him. 

John shuddered as Sherlock handled him so lightly. Placing himself behind John…He could feel his warm chest   
against his own back, due to Sherlock’s open shirt. 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's shoulders, keeping him close. He kissed him once on his head. "I want   
you to feel ready. I can wait." 

 

John turned round to face Sherlock and sighed “Sherlock... it's... it's not that I’m ready I…I just have never been   
in a situation where the other person wanted to give "me" something back.. I feel I 'm in control when I can   
please you but I don't want to disappoint you when... when it's the other way round… “he turned back round   
burying his face into the cushion* 

Sherlock sighed and reached out for John's hand, he took it in his own and stroked the skin gently with his   
thumb. "You could never disappoint me, John. I am always so proud of you." 

John took a deep breath in trying to hold back the tears, nodding his head at the same time “I know I know   
Sherlock... But it's just my body... it makes me feel sick for some reason... I have never been able to come to   
terms with it,” he takes his own hand back “I'm sorry Sherlock” 

Sherlock frowned. "I never realized you were so insecure about yourself." He let his arm drop down by his side   
once John let go of his hand. 

“No... no I don't know what it is I don't think I'd call it that.. Oh Sherlock look I'm really sorry... here let's try   
something… Just hold me yeah? I have to get over this… Will you help me? 

"Of course," He mumbled, bringing his arm back up and resting it across John's chest. Sherlock was happy   
enough to hold John, especially if it would make him feel better. 

John snuggled into Sherlock. Breathing in every scent of him “I love you Sherlock” he shivered in Sherlock's   
arms 

Sherlock smiled and held John tighter. "I love you too." He wanted to stay like this, just like this. He had waited   
for three years to just talk to John again, yet he had gotten even more. 

John started to let himself go… sinking further and further into Sherlock’s grip, every so often he let out a little   
sharp breath, sometimes startling himself, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the fact that Sherlock   
was holding him, but as much as he tried the fear or whatever it was he was feeling took over and john let out a   
little sob. 

"John?" Sherlock mumbled, confused as to why John seemed so upset. He wished there was more that he could   
do. He began to stroke John's arms and chest gently, trying to reassure him in any way that he could. 

John closed his eyes, trying to hard not to let Sherlock know how much pain he was in, he face let his bluff out   
as he gasped for air… He couldn't control how he was feeling inside... What had happened to John that made   
him feel this way...? There must have been something... but he didn't know... Or maybe he did he just wanted   
to forget... 

"John," Sherlock glanced down at him, his frown even deeper. "What is wrong?" He gave John's hand a squeeze,   
wanting him to know that everything would be okay. 

John shook his head “I don't know Sherlock,” he looked down at their hands, brought them both up to John's   
chest he placed Sherlock’s hand over where John's heart was “This...” he gasped whilst trying not to cry in   
between each word “This… is… yours... Sherlock... every… every beat… every beat is for you…” he looked so   
sad, why was he such a mess ? 

Sherlock kept his hand firmly pressed against John's heart. He could feel the quick beats beneath his hand. He   
didn't know what to make of it all, why was John so upset? "John..." 

John looked up at Sherlock, a tear ran down his face he quickly wiped it “God… What is wrong with me?” he   
tried to laugh 

Sherlock gave him a small smile and wiped where the tear had fallen, though John had already got it off himself.   
"John, there is nothing wrong with you." He leaned down and kissed his head. 

“But there is Sherlock!” he squeezed Sherlock's hands tightly, leaning into Sherlock's kiss   
"I don't think there is." Sherlock turned on his stubborn mode. There was no way he'd give up on this one. To   
him, John was the closest thing to perfect. 

“You really do love me don't you…?” He made tiny circles on the top of Sherlock’s hand* 

"More than anything." Sherlock confirmed. "I hope you can tell." 

John stared deep into Sherlock’s eyes, he placed a hand on Sherlock’s face leaned closer to him 

Sherlock stayed still, his face burning up yet again beneath John's touch. He watched John as he leaned in. 

John screwed his eyes shut tight, he tried to let all the fear out of his system, placing his head on Sherlock’s   
hesitating longer and longer, what was he doing? 

Sherlock's eyes were still open, though John's were shut. "John?" Sherlock's voice was barely a whisper. "Can I   
kiss you?" 

John had waited and Oh so long for that question to come from Sherlock... he felt all limp in Sherlock’s   
presence, he lost himself in his own thoughts, eyes still shut tight, he had no idea where he was. He just knew   
that Sherlock was there and his voice was so delicate, but strong at the same time that he knew he was   
protected from everything 

Even though John did not give him permission, he didn't refuse either. So Sherlock leaned in just a touch more,   
their lips meeting gently. 

John moaned very quietly as everything he has always wanted was coming true, he grabbed Sherlock’s hair with   
both of his hands, graving more and more of Sherlock. He pressed his lips a little closer, a deep loving kiss 

Sherlock smiled slightly into the kiss, leaning into John's touch. He placed one hand on John's waist, not wanting   
to make him feel too uncomfortable. 

John jumped slightly at Sherlock’s touch, he broke from the kiss and took both of Sherlock’s hands and placed   
them around his back, their chests were so close, John was cold and could feel the warm sensation he got from   
being so close to Sherlock, he strokes his lovers cheek with the back of his hand, and waited to see what   
Sherlock did next, not trying to put pressure between them by leaning in for another kiss, he just sat and stared   
into Sherlock’s lustful eyes* 

Sherlock had never experienced these feelings often. Very rarely, infact. But John just had a new effect on him.   
He looked back into John's eyes which were glistening. Sherlock wanted to stare into them for as long as it took   
to read each and every detail. But he found himself leaning in and kissing John very lightly on the lips. 

John let out a whimper as Sherlock gripped him closer… kissing him again... how had this happened? How had   
he made the great Sherlock Holmes so passionate…? He moaned as their lips locked together tighter... He   
wanted to push for more... but thought he might frighten Sherlock. He broke and started to breathe a little   
deeper rubbing his own legs 

Sherlock watched John as he pulled away. His cheeks were a very faint shade of pink, and he guessed his would   
be the same. He placed a hand on John's knee, trailing it up his thigh. 

John felt nervous at the fact that Sherlock had placed his hand over his, “Sherlock?” 

"Yes?" Sherlock's voice was calm and the lust shone through it. 

“You okay...? I mean I'm not… you are okay... With this? 

He nodded. Though he had never had a sexual experience before, he felt completely comfortable, safe,   
/prepared/ for anything with John. "Are you alright?"   
“I don't know I’m not really sure we should be doing this? I feel really weak I’ve only just found out you're alive   
again! And now this Sherlock I don't know ... I don't want to rush anything then later either one of us regret it…   
I’m sorry” He rubbed the back of his hand across Sherlock’s face then got up and went into the kitchen 

Sherlock sighed heavily and sank back into the sofa, the warm scent of John still lingering there. He stared   
straight ahead, deep in thought. He understood exactly what John was saying, but he wished it wasn't so   
difficult. Sherlock had never felt so much for another person before, he just /wished/ he could express his   
feelings. 

“You want a drink Sherlock? John called from the kitchen* 

"No," Sherlock mumbled, just about loud enough for John to hear. 

John walked back into the living room with his drink he saw Sherlock was frustrated... he placed his mug on the   
table and sat down next to Sherlock placing a hand on his knee “Sherlock?” 

Sherlock continued to look straight ahead, but inside, he was glad that John had rejoined him. "Yes?" He   
answered. 

John just stared into Sherlock’s eyes, not saying a word, just taking in every second of Sherlock’s presence,   
trying to figure out where everything had gone right. For Sherlock to finally be in his arms and to be alive.


End file.
